“Probably a cauldron and a large wooden stirring spoon.”
“She’s a psychic, not a witch Cyn. She probably wants to look at the jewelry. Just show her what she wants, humor her – nicely – and then she’ll go like she always does.”
Cyndi huffed with defeat, as she hoped Eva would rescue her. No such luck. Just more tough love. “Fine.”
She had an hour to go grab some lunch before her first appointment with a new paper goods supplier. Eva was trashing all the pastel and dated wrapping paper, gift bags, stationary and party supplies in favor for a new brand which had a homemade/country feel to it. Brown wrapper, hand-stamped and textured prints with straw, greenery and other natural pieces for décor. They also had a beautiful selection of Christmas gift-wrapping which put the shiny red and green paper to pasture. Marie’s daughter, Jen, was also a social media buff and wanted to get her started on setting up a Facebook page for the store as well as get someone in punch up the simple website she already had. Eva couldn’t count on the residents of this small town to blow up business. For that, she had to market and sell online.
Cyndi popped in again. “She wants you.”
Eva touched her fingers to her chest. “Me? Why?”
“I don’t know, but don’t let her touch you again. It’s Halloween. The Force is extra strong with her this time of year.”
Zipping up her tote, Eva motioned towards the door. “I’m coming.”
Out front, several customers were in the store while Jen was trying to untangle orange and white lights while an equally bright orange head of sprayed and teased hair attached to the psychic waited by the counter. “My assistant said you wanted to see me.”
That pointed, frosty, pink nail swirled around the top of the display glass as she hummed. “Yes. Did you happen to find that white stone, dear?”
Damn, no. Between the mess in her house, fixing her car, catching up here and thinking about Ben, it was the last thing on Eva’s mind. “No, I’m sorry. If you want to wait, I can call my jewelry supplier who uses stones…….”
“Nevermind.” She waved Eva off, closed her eyes then took a deep, calming breath. Not what I’m looking for.” She then opened her eyes and looked deeply into Eva’s. “But I will be back when I do.” She then reached out, asking for Eva’s hand. Cyndi was behind the old weirdo vehemently shaking her head back and forth. “
Don’t do it
,” Cyndi mouthed.
Rolling her eyes, Eva let the woman take her hand. She closed her eyes and sighed again. “Good, you did as I said.”
“I……what did I do?” Okay, now Eva was reaching Cyndi’s level of paranoia.
The psychic opened her eyes. They were dark green. So dark they almost a black-ish tone. Was she under some kind of trance or something? Eva wanted to yank her hand away, but the sane part of her told her that this lady was probably some hermit who lived with ten cats and needed some socialization. She patted Eva’s hand. “You listened to them. To
him
. You must continue. Only then will you discover.”
Discover? Discover what? That this woman really is a crack-pot? Letting go of Eva’s hand, she backed away. “But remember what I also said. You’re a good girl. Not even this truth will take that away.” She then took a calming breath and headed for the door. “I’ll be in touch, Eva.”
When the bells signaled her exit, Cyndi let out a sharp breath. “Holy shit.”
“Cyn…..customers in the store,” Eva scholded.
Clamping her mouth shut, Cyndi went up to the counter. “That’s it. We need to get some Hogwart spell of protection over this place.
“So I guess you told her my name?”
“I didn’t,” Cyndi replied.
Eva gave her a look. “C’mon, Cyn. You slipped and told that biker my name.”
“That’s different. He can’t summon demons to devour you.”
Then how……? Eva thought. She seriously doubted Madam Chiller Theatre had a ‘guy’ like Ben to scour the internet. It had to be Cyndi or….maybe even Marie. Maybe. Yes, that was it.
Damn, she wished Halloween was over.
~~~***~~~
Seven Skulls sat around the oval, oak table in church. Only two items on the agenda, but they were huge. It was early, but Vic needed to get club business out of the way so the men could pull their regular schedules today. After opening up, he motioned to his sergeant to open up.
“Received a call from the Hog’s president,” Doug began. “What we talked about when we met on Monday turned out to be true. New patch of theirs, Dewey Gaines, seems to be a turncoat.”
Everyone either groaned or pinched their temples, Ben included. A chink in the armor never went over well, but when that chink turned out to be betrayal, the endgame was pretty much a no-brainer. “How’d they find out?”
Vic spoke up. “Dewey was placed on strip-down. However, all their recent ‘
obtained-by-various-means’
vehicles weren’t exactly stripped clean. Dewey claimed the parts were too damaged to send down to us. Been refusing any offer of help. Wanted to do it alone. Club did some night time surveillance and saw Dewey taking shit out and away in a pick-up. Followed ‘im to some wooded area over in Carrollton where he dumped it, covered in brush. When he took off, the surveillance guys took a look. They were the parts he said were damaged.”
“These woods were probably the drop spot,” Tanner said. “They hang around to see who showed up?”
“Nah. But if it is, all’s they gotta do is stage another pick up, then send a very strong message. Hogs’ primary focus was confirming Dewey was stealing. Which he is.”
“And,” Aero interjected, “knows of our affiliation with the Hogs.”
“And that we launder the parts through the body shop,” Taz said, before letting out a frustrated breath. “Shit.”
“Shit is what we’ll be covered in gentlemen if he’s setting up this other crew to take over. And, with what he knows about us, all he has to do is tip off the feds – put the Hogs
and
us outta play.”
“And in jail for a long time,” Wes added, not quite thrilled by that prospect.
Ben looked down the table at Vic. “I take it we’re taking care of it?”
Vic nodded. “Hogs ain’t outlaw. Granted they ain’t afraid to get their hands dirty, but not this bad. But, before it’s taken care of we gotta try to,” Vic turned to Taz, “extract as much intel out of Dewey first, if you get my drift.”
Taz’s black eyes shined like the silver piercing his brows. A diabetic in a candy shop looked less excited. “Please, tell me it’s soon. This dry spell is has me ready to crack.”
“Saturday night. They’re leaving ‘im alone at the garage so he knows it’ll be his only chance to smuggle parts out without being caught. Want you and Ben waiting at the drop spot in the woods. Carrollton’s about an hour over the Ohio border from here. Civilian gear. No bikes or cuts. Get what you can out of ‘im. Regardless,” he turned to Ben, “you know what to do.”
Ben nodded, clearly with no need to ask.
“Lastly,” Aero cut in, “got a call from Joey Perrone. Stated, and I quote, against his better judgement, Uncle Emie is agreeing to meet with us.”
“When?” Wes asked.
“Saturday afternoon. Gonna be a full day for the Skulls, boys.”
“Makes the party all the sweeter,” Taz said.
Monday through Friday, the Skulls, just like their ninety-nine percent civilian counterparts, worked. Aside from their off-grid activities which they worked hard to keep that way, members earned legitimately when not on club time. Vic and Elle played landlord – renting out several, small condos which they purchased in the late nineties. Doug and his brother Dave own D&D Services – a small, excavation business doing tree removal, lawn care and snow plowing. Due to his rap sheet since the military, Aero did under-the-table consulting for a vet buddy doing design work for an aeronautical engineering company, Wes’s being trained to be Taz’s protégé in the body shop while Tanner and Ben do regular shifts at the mill.
Except for Vic who lived in a nice house and was able to put two kids through college, what the rest of the guys did in Uncle Sam’s eyes wasn’t exactly enough to earn a good living. Which is why they lived simply and cheaply, as not to raise suspicion. The off-book money was rather large, always in cash and had to be co-mingled with legit earnings a little at a time. Living life as an outlaw was like a game of chess where every move had to be thought out and played carefully. Which is why they set aside Saturday nights to blow off steam and get as wild as they wanted within the confines of their clubhouse.
“Where’s the meet happenin’?” Tanner asked.
“Westover, off 79. Restaurant. Emilio’s ‘front’ business. It’s all set up.”
Down the table, Ben looked uneasy. “Sure it ain’t a
set up
?”
“Yeah, Vic,” Taz spoke up. “Feel more comfortable with a neutral place.”
Vic shook his head. “Look, we asked for this. We’re in their pocket and, unfortunately, at their mercy. Can’t push any more buttons. No limit was set, so we all go. Strength in numbers, boys. Let’s see what direction he wants to go in and what we can do to be sure the Skulls are driving right along with them.”
To his right, Doug banged the table several times. “That’s right,” the sergeant agreed. Almost as close in age, he staunchly defended his president with his words – and his life. “Whatever we gotta do.”
Ben wasn’t a ‘table cheerleader’. His cool quiet allowed him to concentrate, to think, to ponder. Especially the big picture. “And if it ain’t what they want?” He was direct with his questions, which was also how he liked his answers. “What’s Plan B?” Just about every guy in the room had their work clothes on under their cuts, ready to shed as soon as they left for an honest day’s work – Ben too, a green and gray checked flannel over a black t-shirt under his leather worn strictly for church. But every man here knew that if the Santagio’s took their business off the table, their honest work would put them in personal, financial holes. Ben was just the only one to verbalize it.
“Let’s be positive, bro,” Doug told him.
“I’d rather be realistic,” Ben quietly retorted. His eyes skipped from Doug to Vic, hoping his president wouldn’t need more explanation than that. Though the other three charters made money elsewhere, all four benefited from the nice slice of bank the monthly narcotics run netted them. Granted they weren’t living high on the hog, but hand-to-mouth by barely making it with what they made on the outside wasn’t how a man wanted to live. And seeing a woman three years younger than him with an education, owning a home and managing a business was kind of a wake-up call for him. Ben loved the club and would defend it till he died, but, at thirty-five, suddenly wanted more than just lugging lumber and being a hired gun. “Vic?”
“Best I can say, Ben,” Vic solemnly said, “is that Plan B is to wait and see how Plan A pans out.”
~~~***~~~
She’d only been working seven hours, but, by five p.m., Eva was ready to drag her tired self home. Marie had come in at one to take over and close up the store while she went to her vendor appointment, which is where she was coming from. Four hours – four long hours as the sales rep, who was gayer than a container of pink glitter, showed her every natural, recycled, country-motif paper product.
Eva had to admit, the stuff was gorgeous – and would institute a slow change to the product direction she wanted to steer the store in. But it was anywhere from sixty five to ninety cents per unit more than what she was paying for the current product. She’d already been lured to the meeting in exchange for a 10% new customer discount on her first initial order. However, when Mister Pink Sparkle had gushed over her lavender skirt with a ruffled hem and rear kick pleat and ‘to die for’ black t-strap pumps he extended it to 15% on the first five. If only the straight salesmen who sold her the jeep could’ve been cajoled thus!
Scoring a victory, she looked forward to rewarding herself with a long soak in the claw foot tub while perusing green paint chips. Her head throbbed, her body ached and creepy Madam Psychic still lingered in her head. Discover what? Truth about what? The woman got to her, which she found disturbing. She was nothing more than an anti-social loon with bad taste in makeup, fashion who probably lived with twenty cats.
Mentally listing what was in her fridge after hitting the grocer’s Monday, Eva decided she was even too tired to cook for herself. A benefit of being a single woman was dining on a bowl of Frosted Flakes or container of Cherry Garcia for supper. But in the spirit of keeping her ass from spreading, she decided to make a quick Chinese stop for shrimp and broccoli – also settling on wonton soup, couple of egg rolls and an order of chicken lo mein. Great, supper and lunch for the next two days was set.